Worth
by TheMorningAche
Summary: Tsuna expects all the guardians to get along, Mukuro and Hibari don't, and Chrome's stuck on the sidelines. Ryohei just wants to find something of worth.


All major external conflicts have ended. Of course, there's still small spats with other families, along with the occasional psycho trying to destroy the world system as they know it. (Someone with ties to the mafia, leaving it to them to clean it up instead of turning to the weak power of legal means. He remembered when he used to be able to see police as infallible heroes.) But every major strand has been tied tight. Only the threads that time frays loose remain.

Sawada has done like his ancestor, the first boss, and slunk off to Japan. His departure – and subsequent retiring – is met with mixed reaction. He's never really been courageous, even twenty years in the business. It might be somewhat of a relief to have free reign to conquer new territories, not have a leader whinging about causalities and friendship every time they report on the head count. Those that know him, however, have known his extraordinary ordinariness. And they're acquainted with his unrelenting stubbornness and kindness. Those people think he'll be sorely missed.

The man's of age to be making decisions about his life and that's just one he made. One out of many he has left to face. He's got girls waiting at home, ready to hear what direction his – and potentially their – life is going to take.

Ryohei's in the same boat.

He's in his mid-30s already. His last relationship had been a long one with potential. He and Hana were serious and in love. But she had always been mature and looking for any opportunity to become a jetsetter while he had already traversed the world and exhausted of it. Long distance may have worked for them thus far, but it wouldn't work forever. It was an amicable split.

So he found himself back in Namimori. He got his own place even though his parents wanted him back home. It was too empty there with Kyoko sharing an apartment across town with her friend, Haru. Besides, there was something achingly bittersweet about living in the home of his youth, the residence his haunting memories came alive most in.

Ryohei got a job, bought some furniture, established a new routine and a new life.

Still, as said before, it was the external issues of the Vongola that had been solved. That is to say: the internal battles were still alive and surging.

Sawada called it a phase. Yamamoto playfully nicknamed it 'The Warring Age'. Gokudera stated that they had just always been like that, throwing a careful glance at his former boss as he spoke. It appeared Sawada was maintaining his famous combination of being both naïve and hardheaded. It would seem he had returned to his homeland, entirely expecting every storm to be quelled now that he had shucked the Vongola name. He expected the guardians to form some sort of super hero team, fighting crime and stopping jewel heists in synchronized costumes and movements.

None of them looked good in spandex and helmets were hard to breathe in.

He still seemed to brooding about that fact, constantly bringing up the suggestion of all of them doing something one of these days. (Making Ryohei wonder sometimes why his friend had even decided to give up a position with such extreme adventure when he clearly missed it now.) He was in utter denial about the fact that two of his guardians were feuding right now, as they had always done in the past, with another one standing on the sidelines and the others blissfully disregarding the violence.

For about two years straight, Mukuro and Hibari had been waging war against each other. Upon his return to Japan, Ryohei had heard rumors from middle school kids, talking anxiously about the haunted shrine up on the hill and the two beasts that claimed the land there. He knew from earlier reports (Tsuna's sulking and muttering about why the two couldn't attend another meeting, about why they didn't even call when his retirement was announced) that the two had been going at it. Something must've happened between the two to finally break the sharp tension that had always hung between them. There was a trip to Paraguay, a coinciding mission, and then the fighting broke out.

Their altercation spread across international borders. There were explosions, innocent victims, damaged property – all of them had to hushed up and fixed with dirty money. And still Sawada was convinced that 'boys will be boys'. He turned a blind eye on it when a headquarters in Italy was destroyed, when a small ally family in the Bronx was wiped from the face of the earth just by existing too close to one of the brawls. Finally, he took some action, shipping them away to Namimori with strict orders (pleas) to stay put.

They had been fighting there since.

Luckily though, it was a smart move on the Tenth's part. Hibari wouldn't let the clash get out of control if it risked his town. They kept it contained to the shrine, away from bystanders.

Ryohei had stopped by a few times. As far as he could see, there wasn't much variance any visit. There were illusions he wound up caught in, blows that threatened to land on him just for crowding near Hibari. There was the strong scent of upturned dirt, nauseating stink of fresh blood, the faintest whiff of disinfectant and the sticky sides of bandages.

Mukuro and Hibari didn't fight constantly. There were still plenty of times when he'd stop by Hibari's house (which the resident spent more time in with the many years separating his tenure at Nami Middle) and the other male would be there. Sometimes Kusakabe would be there as well and he'd actually get served tea like a guest. Versus being ignored but for the sporadic withering glare from the corner of a slanted eye.

He'd visit Mukuro infrequently. Most times it was hard to find the male – or a reason to see him. The illusionist was unapproachable at the best of times and cynical and cruel at his normal. Most often, he could be found hanging off Sawada's shoulder. He still continued the pursuit of the younger man's body, but his disarming coos were never enough to catch the Tenth off guard. Perhaps he simply had also come to enjoy sane company since his days of youth.

It was now more clear than ever that Chrome was a separate entity with Mukuro freed of the Vindice. (Ryohei had never questioned the motives or means to the other being freed, but guessed it had something to do with Sawada's delusions of a happy ending.) She was still partially supported by his illusions but not due to lack of her own power. Their connection was less prominent when they stood side-by-side. Her silence didn't seem to be filled with constant worry over him, and his every word didn't seem to be oozing with saccharine affection.

Ryohei wasn't the quickest to notice things, nor one to pick up on subtleties of emotion, but… He couldn't help feeling that Chrome looked the slightest bit lost when she stood at Mukuro's side now.

She was always nearby the fights. She tended to them if neither mood was too foul. She stood amidst dilapidated ruins of the shrine, in a throng of trees still left standing to shield her from the aggression, crouched on the stone steps, peering over the top to watch. A silent and constant presence. No passion bled through her eyes.

It had seemed possible for a fire to be kindled between her and Hibari for a while. Gokudera, Yamamoto, and Sawada used to gossip about it when they were supposed to be working. Hibari had only originally paid her attention as the host of his rival.

"But," Sawada would say, his friends looking way too enthralled in the current topic, considering the stack of paperwork awaiting them on their desks, "He continues to protect her and acknowledge her. First time I've seen him treat a girl that way."

They'd make a good match, Ryohei thought at the time. Chrome was delicate and indecisive, while Hibari was strong and quick to action. They filled in the holes their personalities left open. And if Mukuro could only openly admit to a grudging respect for the other male, certainly Chrome would be perfectly fine with going on a couple dates.

But it wasn't meant to be. Just as it wasn't meant for Chrome and Mukuro. And Sawada was absolutely not an option. It seemed the young maiden was just doomed to platonic relationships with men who never really treated her like a whole human. She was fragile, yes, but she had a strong resolution and potential. In the sight of others, she would always be too weak, someone that needed to be protected, this doll missing all its essential parts.

"Kyouya's tired of these surroundings," Mukuro announced one day. His ever-present smirk was filled with just the appropriate amount of amusement and good-natured frustration. His lips told things while his eyes kept secrets. "Says he feels like an herbivore with all this grass and forest around."

"Where will you go," Sawada asked, vision directed at the butter knife the elder male was trying to stab him with, countering it with his fork. There was a silent confrontation before both dropped their utensils.

"The desert. I think he wants to relive his younger days of training."

No one quite believed that mauling and marring one another's body would count as training. No one said anything.

"What about that girl's organs?" Gokudera had always thought it was a bit selfish for the elder guardian to risk his life when another's depended on him. He had thus far bit his tongue because the thought of upsetting the Tenth was a thought he really couldn't bare without a fair amount of heartache.

"She got a liver last year. At this rate, she might be complete in a few decades. Even sooner if people keep dying like they do.

"So," Mukuro continued, twinkling eyes sliding over to Ryohei. He smiled a little wider. "Take care of Chrome for me."

The implications of that order were something he had to mull over for weeks. There was the chance it was casual, directed at the assembly of guardians and not just him. There was the possibility of him being told to look after her like he looked after his own sister, the way Mukuro watched over Chrome. The prospect of romance didn't elude him either. But he didn't think there was a chance of that. What did Mukuro know of love? More than that, since when did he think of Chrome as a creature ready for love beyond his grasp?

A month passed and autumn started to take hold. It was the day for the warfare to move elsewhere.

They were fighting up at the shrine until their flight that evening. Gilded leaves crunched under Ryohei's feet, scattering across the stone steps as he came to the other spectator's side. The air was crisp and biting, but he had once again forgotten his scarf and gloves. He buried his stiff fingers deep in the folds of his jacket, tucking his chin into his chest as he watched a powerful back kick connect with a blurry body. Their movements had gotten too fast for human eyes to track.

Eyes fell on him and he looked down to see endless depths of purple gazing at him. He grinned, nodding. Chrome offered him a smile.

She had changed much since their first meeting. Her words were no longer abrupt and vague, although they were just as rare. They came out louder though, the clean chime of a bell. She could bare human contact outside of her trio of childhood friends. Physically, her hair was longer and her figure a bit fuller. She hadn't grown much taller, but she still had a few centimeters on Sawada.

Ryohei found himself wondering if the blush was still so easy to provoke or if the chill had brought color to her pale cheeks.

"You going too?"

"No," she replied slowly, eyes following the whir of legs and glint of silver, "Mukuro-sama told me to stay."

He grunted in response. A few seconds passed and he moved to stand in front of her. Her curious eyes shifted up to his face. He couldn't precisely say why, but he had the urge to bend over, hands on his knees, and talk to her as if she was a child. (Which he used frequently on Sawada because it ruffled his feathers and pissed that lawn-head bomber off.) He kind of wondered how she would react.

"You kissed Sawada when you first met him," came from his mouth, unbidden and seemingly from nowhere.

Chrome must've thought it unexpected too. Her eyes went round before red dusted her cheeks brighter. "…I heard he was the leader of a mafia group. I… decided to greet him in their traditional way."

A hum loosed from his throat, covering up his urge to ask for the same courtesy. Well, of all the weird things to start burbling to the surface…

He grinned, indicating with a twitch of his head the quarrel nearby. "I know this is all, like, extreme and whatnot, but how about we go get something warm to drink? Your hands look extremely frigid."

Chrome glanced at her fingers. They were a bluish tint, her veins clear underneath her thin skin. Proof of life perhaps. But for how long? She looked over Ryohei's shoulder at the ceaseless struggle. It should be ok to live a little.

"Ok."

Sawada's idea of super heroes and present day law enforcement - they weren't worth much. Wearing spandex around a city where practically everyone knows you or spending hours on end watching the same cycle of kick-punch-stab-illusion - not worth much. But this? This moment, the possibilities, and the thrill of something new? Pretty much priceless.

_(But if he had to estimate, he'd say it's worth a lot.)_


End file.
